


Hot Under the Collar

by Anonymous



Category: Preacher (TV)
Genre: Choking, F/M, Light BDSM, Masturbation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-29
Updated: 2016-07-29
Packaged: 2018-07-27 11:19:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,202
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7616059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Everyone's got urges. However, sometimes you have to get a little creative.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hot Under the Collar

**Author's Note:**

> I've never read the comic, barely watch the show. Sorry if I don't get the characters right. Unbeta'd.

 

_"I like it."_

Jesse doesn't understand at first, he went into the conversation expecting to deal with domestic abuse. This is different, unexpected. Old memories flash in his head, memories of pain, pleasure, and mostly Tulip, and _damn it all_ , he gets hard. It's sick that just a few words can make him react like that, like some sort of animal. Jesse quickly tells Betsy he understands and apologizes for the misunderstanding. He just wants to get out of there as soon as he can because it suddenly feels like he can't catch his breath.

 

The stoplight turns red before he can speed through the intersection. He's gripping the steering wheel so hard, it's painfully digging into the flesh of his palms. Jesse shuts his eyes and whispers to himself, "Idle hands, idle hands." He inhales deeply and holds it in for a moment before exhaling and opens his eyes. The light is still red, the sun is still shining high in the sky and the heat seems more oppressive than it did just a few minutes before.

He fishes his phone out of his pocket and thinks of calling her; just her voice would be enough for him to get off. His thumb hovers over her name in his contacts but he doesn't go through with it. Jesse figures he doesn't need to add more to the list of why he's damned to spend eternity in hell.

But preachers are human and they fall prey to needs of the flesh just like everyone else. Jesse doesn't wait for the light to change and takes a sharp turn to find the nearest place he can park for just a few minutes. And finding old, vacant houses isn't exactly hard to do in these parts.

The engine cuts out and he tries to relax and begins unbuckling his belt. Jesse may not have the guts to call Tulip, so his memories are the next best thing. One memory in particular...

_Tulip drags the tips of her fingers up and down his bare thighs, making him tense and shiver. She's blindfolded him, so he doesn't know what will come after the light touches. "Say please... Beg me..."_

_She's put to use everything she bought at the hardware store, especially the thin wooden rod he can still feel stinging across his chest. The words won't come out of him. She's beaten him for what feels to him like the entire day, but he's not broken just yet. Still, when she climbs on top of him, the full weight of her on his stomach, it's almost unbearable. She's still fully dressed, he can feel the cool fabric of her skirt against his hot, sweat slick skin._

_Tulip takes a long drag off her cigarette and blows the smoke on his face. She grabs his jaw and leans in to whisper in his ear. "Should I just burn this pretty face? Maybe then you'll tell me what I want to hear."_

_The cigarette is so close and part of him wants her to do it, even if he knows she wouldn't go through with it. Rules set long ago say they would never mark each other in visible spots. Still, the thrill that courses through him is very real._ _Jesse wants to make her happy and begging makes her happy. He can clearly picture the change in her expression as soon as he speaks; annoyance slowly morphing into a smirk that says "I win"._

_"Please, please, please," he says to her, panting hard. "Let me come... please, Tulip. Please. Can I come?"_

_With a giant smile on her face she leans over and puts the cigarette out on the metal ashtray sitting on the nightstand. "There, now, was that so hard?" Tulip climbs off him for a moment and removes her panties, then puts them in his mouth just to further the humiliation. "Of course you can come," she says and sinks down on his cock and Jesse feels like the air has been punched out of him._

He brings his fingers up to his lips, thinking of how the lace felt on his tongue and the hand wrapped around his cock slows down to match her movements that afternoon.

_She rides him painstakingly slow. It's so good but not as good as he knows it can feel._

_"But not just yet," she says and Jesse feels like he could cry; he's officially broken. "Think you can hold out just a little longer?" Tulip asks him while lightly scratching her nails up and down his chest._

_"No," he groans when one of her nails catches on his nipple, sending a ripple of discomfort and arousal through him._

_She cocks her head to the side and smiles. "You're so pretty when you're desperate."_

Jesse is so lost that he can almost feel her there in the truck with him. Her soft skin, the quiet little noises she makes as she rides him, her cold hands drifting up, up, up.

_Tulip's hands are small but her strength makes up for that. When they tighten around his neck, just under his jaw, it feels perfect. Jesse thrusts up into her, wanting, needing his release._

_She stops and lets him go. "You want it that bad, huh? You'd risk more punishment just to do that? You're pathetic," Tulip says, just a tad out of breath._

_"Yes. I am," he says, voice raspy and hoarse. Jesse licks his chapped lips before speaking again. "Please, Tulip. Please, will you let me come?"_

_She snorts. "You're lucky I love you," she says and picks up where she left off: hands around his neck, though riding him faster than before._

Jesse has his free hand around his own neck, pressing lightly. It's not the same, but it helps to bring the memory to life. He's panting and thrusting into his own fist. No part of this feels like the real thing, but it's good enough for now. He feels a pressure in his lower belly and he holds his breath as his hand keeps a relentless pace around his cock. Jesse focuses on the head, it's almost too sensitive at this point. He screws his eyes shut and cries out as he comes, thrusting into his fist and he finally feels sated.

The little tremors in his limbs feel like tiny electric shocks, and he almost feels like laughing. Everything feels good as he basks in that afterglow for a second. Coming back down to earth, he focuses on reality and the mess on his hands, and most importantly, on the front of his clean, black shirt.

"Shit!" He says and shoves his hand into the seat. Wedged deep into the seat of his truck, he finds an old oil rag. It's disgusting, but it's better than nothing. Jesse ends up regretting doing this, as the rag is only smearing his cum into the shirt. It's probably a lost cause at this point.

"Next time plan better," he mutters to himself and starts his truck back up. He hopes he can make it back to the church without bumping into anyone because he doesn't know that he'd be able to explain the giant, obvious stain.


End file.
